I Did It
If I were Dora, I'd be doing that stupid dance she does whenever she does anything. But I'm not Dora. Thank God.
Last night, on the eve of the deadline, I emailed my submission of 400 words or less to the Star. It was more or less a "print friendly" version of the "I'm Not Perfect and That's Okay" post of a couple of weeks back. I'm sure they're more interested in Joe Blow's outlook on the Iraq situation, or Mary Mom's views on stem cell research, but screw it--I've never been one to blather on and on about what I think the general public wants me to talk about, and damned if I start now. The whole family court/domestic violence/child custody web is such a tangled one that very few people want to even consider it, much less read about it, so I'm reasonably certain my words will be dismissed like so much turkey innards on Friday--but the point is, I said I was going to do it, and I did. It's not winning, it's finishing the race. I canarod, I willarod, I winarod, Iditarod!
I also met with the guardian ad litem this afternoon. Her office is right smack dab in my old hood, so I was already uncomfortable. Luckily, she seems to have a pretty good nose for bullshit. And I'm guessing db fed her quite a spoonful. It seems he wasn't entirely forthcoming about his living arrangements. Or his address, for that matter. Or his 20+ year history of pot use. And he gave the impression I cannot and will not hold a steady job. That I put Bob on Zoloft for shits and giggles. That I've single-handedly turned the whole world against him.
Please. I don't have that kind of time. And if I did, I would hope I would spend it on more fruitful pursuits than ruining the life of someone who seems to do a fine job of it on his own.
At any rate, she seemed to be leaning toward recommending continued supervised visitation, at least until this thing goes to trial (which likely won't be before March). I'm down with that. A couple of hours sucked out of my Friday night is better than wondering where the fuck my kid is and what bullshit he's having to endure in my absence.
The best news is that it's closing in on 5:00 and I haven't been called to pick up the hellion early today. I hope this means he's had just a tee-rific day, but I'll settle for "okay." Ben's working this evening, so Bob and I are digging into the leftovers for dinner. I can't wait. I'm sure he'll be less than impressed ("we had this stuff yesterday!").
And the new season of "Scrubs" starts soon.
Good times.
Last night, on the eve of the deadline, I emailed my submission of 400 words or less to the Star. It was more or less a "print friendly" version of the "I'm Not Perfect and That's Okay" post of a couple of weeks back. I'm sure they're more interested in Joe Blow's outlook on the Iraq situation, or Mary Mom's views on stem cell research, but screw it--I've never been one to blather on and on about what I think the general public wants me to talk about, and damned if I start now. The whole family court/domestic violence/child custody web is such a tangled one that very few people want to even consider it, much less read about it, so I'm reasonably certain my words will be dismissed like so much turkey innards on Friday--but the point is, I said I was going to do it, and I did. It's not winning, it's finishing the race. I canarod, I willarod, I winarod, Iditarod!
I also met with the guardian ad litem this afternoon. Her office is right smack dab in my old hood, so I was already uncomfortable. Luckily, she seems to have a pretty good nose for bullshit. And I'm guessing db fed her quite a spoonful. It seems he wasn't entirely forthcoming about his living arrangements. Or his address, for that matter. Or his 20+ year history of pot use. And he gave the impression I cannot and will not hold a steady job. That I put Bob on Zoloft for shits and giggles. That I've single-handedly turned the whole world against him.
Please. I don't have that kind of time. And if I did, I would hope I would spend it on more fruitful pursuits than ruining the life of someone who seems to do a fine job of it on his own.
At any rate, she seemed to be leaning toward recommending continued supervised visitation, at least until this thing goes to trial (which likely won't be before March). I'm down with that. A couple of hours sucked out of my Friday night is better than wondering where the fuck my kid is and what bullshit he's having to endure in my absence.
The best news is that it's closing in on 5:00 and I haven't been called to pick up the hellion early today. I hope this means he's had just a tee-rific day, but I'll settle for "okay." Ben's working this evening, so Bob and I are digging into the leftovers for dinner. I can't wait. I'm sure he'll be less than impressed ("we had this stuff yesterday!").
And the new season of "Scrubs" starts soon.
Good times.
posted by Mitzi Green at 4:43 PM
3 Comments:
Congratulations on submitting your piece! Extra noodles for you tonight!
Hey, I'm proud of you for submitting your piece...that took a lot of courage, and I know it was great!
Glad to hear the GAL could smell the bullshit a mile away. Methinks DB is doing a fine job digging his own grave.
Yes, Congrats! Ummm....would those be noodles with browned butter? MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!
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